


New Normal

by GatesKeeper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatesKeeper/pseuds/GatesKeeper
Summary: Five times Sam had to adjust to Dean and Cas being a couple. And one time, it felt exactly right.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 35
Kudos: 738





	New Normal

1.

“Oh, uh, hello, Sam,” Cas greets, holding two mugs of coffee close to his bare chest.

“Morning Cas,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible.

It was only a few days ago that Dean had come to him looking nervous but determined and announced that he and Cas were now ‘a thing’.

_“So, if you’re going to be weird about it, tell me now,” he’d mumbled, hands fisted at his sides—probably to hide how sweaty his palms were._

_Sam shook himself out of his shock, the small smile on his face growing wider by the second. “You mean you idiots actually worked yourselves out? I thought it was gonna take another decade at least.”_

_“You…?”_

_“Have been patiently waiting for the day I could call you out on all the eye sex without you throwing a fit….? Damn right, I have.” And he was happy to see his brother’s squared-off shoulders slump slightly in relief._

And yet, despite the years that Sam had spent hoping that the two of them would just _resolve_ all their unresolved sexual tension already, he has to admit that the adjustment has been more uncomfortable than he thought it would be. Not long ago, he’d barely seen the angel wearing any less than three layers and now he’s in nothing but a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, his hair looking fucked all ways to Sunday.

“Going out for a jog now? I thought you did that earlier in the morning?” Cas asks with a tilt of his head.

“I had a late night. Decided to catch up on a few hours,” he explains, pointedly not mentioning that when he _did_ fall to sleep, he dreamed about a ghost throwing furniture across a room and moaning Dean’s name. He’s going to have to talk to them about some soundproofing. “Anyway, I should…” he gestures down the hallway.

“Of course, Sam,” Cas says, turning to the side and inadvertently revealing a hickey that had been sucked a few inches below his collarbone.

Sam shudders. Maybe now that Billie’s Death, he can ask her to build another wall in his mind and put all his unwanted knowledge of Dean’s sex life on the other side.

2.

Being out on a case feels good—normal. Cas looks like an accountant again and, even though Sam offered him shotgun in the Impala, the angel shook his head and slid into the back. The only real difference Sam can discern in their behavior is that when Dean starts singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs, Cas gives a rarely-seen indulgent smile and even hums along to a few bars. And Sam figures, he can get used to this. He can get used to seeing them happy.

They are still a few hours away from Janesville, Wisconsin, when Dean’s stomach starts growling louder than the engine and they unanimously decide to find a diner. Before they sit down, Sam’s phone beeps. “Looks like there’s another body,” he says, frowning as he scrolls through the news story.

So far, three middle-aged, good-looking guys have all been found dead of heart attacks in hotel rooms across the city. They’d been caught with their pants down, literally—so their working theory is a succubus. “This guy’s name is Arthur Handon. Married, two kids. Traveling sales rep.”

“Well, that’s a cliché. I wonder if being a cheater is necessary experience for that job,” Dean snorts, flipping through the menu. Sam doesn’t even know what the point of his brother’s browsing is—he’s just going to order a burger and fries anyway.

And yet, when the waitress comes, Dean grimaces to himself—and places an order for a burger—with a _side salad_. Sam chokes on his water.

“Christo,” he whisper-yells and even though his brother’s eyes do roll up to the ceiling, they don’t turn black.

“I’m not possessed, Bitch,” he mutters. “Cas and I made a deal.”

“What _kind_ of deal?” Sam questions, knowing he’s being ridiculous but also knowing that Winchesters and deals of any sort are bad news.

Dean grimaces and crosses his arms. “Cas is thinking about giving up his grace so he can age with us. Only, he worries I’m gonna immediately die of a paper cut or high blood pressure or some shit--”

“—because it’s _so unreasonable_ to worry about your health given your lifestyle and eating habits—”

“So, for the next couple of cases, he’s not allowed to use mojo unless it’s an emergency and I’m supposed to watch out for myself more—see if we can handle it long-term.”

“That’s--” Sam starts, but he can’t find any more words to follow it up with.

"Nothing worth geting excited about," Dean grumbles under his breath, before forcibly changing the subject to whether Robert Pattinson will make a good Batman. He says he’ll give him a chance but it’s obvious by the way he keeps using the term “kid” over and over that he resents that this will be the first time the actor playing Bruce Wayne will be younger than him.

But when the food arrives and Dean gripes but spears a cucumber anyway, Sam can’t help but think that it’s nice that his live-by-the-sword-die-by-the-sword brother is actually worried about growing old.

3.

Sam wishes that they’d discussed this ahead of time. “How many rooms?” the 50-year-old balding man behind the front desk asks while Sam looks at Dean with a question in his eyes.

“Got one with two Queens?”

The guy nods and Dean hands over one of their fake credit cards and fills out the information on the slip given to him with purposefully messy handwriting.

And yet, as soon as they step out of the lobby headed back towards the car, Sam has to ask, “Are you sure about this? You and Cas don’t want to be alone…?”

“Dude, we’re not going to start paying for two rooms every time we’re working a case just because…. Besides, this case is a milk run. Probably two days, tops, and it’s not like we’d do anything with you in the next bed. I’m not _that_ much into exhibitionism.”

“Gross, Dean,” he tells his brother, shoving him slightly, but he decides he’ll be glad for the company.

Over the next two hours, Team Free Will goes over their case notes and makes a game plan for tomorrow. Sam and Dean are going to interview the next-of-kin, while Cas—probably the most succubus-proof—is headed to the crime scenes. Eventually, Dean leans back from his laptop screen, rubbing his eyes. “It’s all starting to blur together,” he complains.

“Well, it is past midnight,” Sam agrees with a yawn. “And I think we’ve done all the prep we can. Mind if I take the first shower?” He asks, getting up from his creaky wooden chair with a stretch.

“I’ll get one in the morning,” Dean waves him off, already taking off his plaid overshirt.

True to his brother’s word, when Sam emerges from the bathroom, Dean and Cas aren’t doing anything inappropriate, but the scene feels intimate anyway. Cas is sitting on the bed, stripped down to just his dress shirt and pants, reading a book in his left hand. With the right, he strokes Dean’s sleeping head, pillowed against his lap—and something inside Sam aches, remembering similar scenes with Jessica.

“He actually looks peaceful,” he can’t help but whisper to Cas, shifting from one bare foot to the other on the scratchy brown carpet dotted with cigarette stains.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Cas says, something so awed in his voice that if Sam had ever considered giving the “you hurt him, I’ll hurt you” speech, this moment would have made him realize how ridiculous that idea was.

“Thanks…for watching over him. I doubt he tells you enough,” he mentions, instead.

Cas’s white shirt gleams in the darkness as he voluntarily turns off the light for him. “He doesn’t,” the angel agrees. “But he shows me in other ways.”

4.

“Dude, what _was_ that back there?”

“Drop it, Sammy!”

“She obviously knew something and was totally into you. We could have worked with that. Now we’re lucky if she doesn’t file a complaint with the real cops.”

“I said _drop it_ ,” Dean insists, wrenching Baby’s car door open.

The first few minutes of the drive are silent so Sam occupies himself with staring out the window. He wishes he could admire the architecture of the 19th-century houses they pass, but really, he’s wondering if he should check out signs of ghost activity in the area, just in case.

He’s so lost in thought that Dean’s voice catches him off guard.

“It feels weird flirting now that—you know….” his brother mutters, fingers tight against the steering wheel.

“It’s not like Cas would mind unless you made out with her or something. It’s for a _case._ ”

“I get that. But then she was touching my arm and sticking her boobs in my face and I—snapped, I’m sorry.” He actually sounds shaken up about it.

“No, Dean, _I’m_ sorry,” Sam sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “You shouldn’t have to make yourself uncomfortable just to gather intel. We’ll find another way.”

Dean grimaces a smile and then, surprising Sam even more, elaborates. “I knew when Cas and I started this thing that—this was it. I mean, I wouldn’t have risked our friendship over something that was only gonna last a year. But I didn’t think I’d get in so deep, Man. Yesterday, this super-hot chick hit on me at the bar and usually I like it if I tell them ‘no’ and they push back a little—but she came back with this friend—and I straight up switched seats.

“And last week, I recycled some of my Busty Asian Beauties. _Recycled._ I didn’t even put them in the trash. Because even if I didn’t tell Cas I was doing it, I could still hear him in my head going on and on about how we should all care for the environment.”

“You’re in a happy, committed relationship—why are you making it sound like a bad thing?” Sam asks as Dean’s tone climbs higher.

“Because this isn’t me, Man. I’m a dick and a smartass and a ladies’ man and none of that translates to being a good boyfriend. What if I can’t keep it up?”

Sam casts a quick glance over his shoulder. “Stop. Go back. There was a grocery store back there--”

Dean looks at him like he’s crazy. “What? You need _toilet paper_ all of a sudden? I’m freakin’ the fuck out here, Sammy.”

“Which is why we’re going to go to the store, buy a six-pack of beer, then find a place to talk. You shouldn’t have this panic attack all over Cas.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Yeah, OK.”

A few minutes later, the two of them are sitting on the Impala’s hood, parked on an overlook above a valley. The beer seems to calm Dean down, which is both helpful and worrisome at the same time, but Sam waits until the silence between them has become easy to speak.

“You’re a good brother, Dean,” Sam tells him over Dean’s instant protests. “My entire life, you took care of me. You stole food so I could eat. You _died_ so I wouldn’t have to. Because, when you care about someone, you care about them with everything you have.

“So while you may think of yourself as nothing more than someone who wears a leather jacket, listens to 80’s rock, and has a string of meaningless one-night-stands, seeing you devote yourself completely to somebody—seems pretty classic Dean Winchester to me.”

Dean takes a sip of his beer and doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t have to.

Instead, he claps Sam on the back when their drinks are finished and suggests they bring the rest back to the motel, where they have an angel waiting for them.

5.

“Find anything on the succubus?” Sam asks, loosening his tie as they step through the door to the motel room.

“Unfortunately, no,” Cas frowns at him before turning the expression to Dean. “Do you mind if we talk about something…privately?” he asks the older Winchester brother, placing a hand on Dean’s right shoulder.

“Uh, sure,” Sam is quick to offer. “I could go pick up dinner. Any recommendations?”

Dean looks down at Cas’s arm then back at the angel’s face. “Actually, Sam, why don’t you stay, and we’ll just order in.”

So much for thinking that their little talk by the Impala had actually _accomplished_ anything—Dean’s apparently still in flight or fight mode. And Cas doesn’t look happy about it. “I’m sure whatever it is, we can talk about it later, babe,” Dean says, walking over to his bag. “After all, we don’t want to third wheel Sammy.”

“‘Sammy’ is perfectly fine,” Sam points out, ignoring the way Dean glares at him from behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Well, I’m not. Cas, do ya think that you can heal this cut I got?” Dean requests, folding his dress sleeve up to reveal a freshly bleeding mark. Where did he even _get_ that?

“I…I thought that we weren’t using my powers for a while.”

“Yeah, but this is something we _could_ fix with bandages in the future—so why not just go ahead and stitch it up with some grace?” Dean holds his arm out and raises an eyebrow, expectantly.

“I—no—we had an arrangement,” Cas insists and even though Sam has spent this entire time focused on how weird Dean is acting, he suddenly reexamines Cas. Because he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time that Cas has refused to help Dean when he’s asked for it.

Before he can do anything about it, though, Dean’s got his gun out and shoots a bullet directly between Cas’s eyes. Except they aren’t Cas’s eyes anymore. The second skin seems to fall away, revealing the corpse of a girl with hazel irises and cascading chestnut brown hair.

“What do you know…? It’s the girl from the bar I was telling you about,” Dean says, leaning over the body. “A shifter, not a succubus. That’s how she had Cas’s memories….”

Dean shoots up, suddenly realizing, “Shit! Cas!”

Turns out the angel is fine—annoyed, but fine—trapped in a circle of Holy Fire at one of the crime scenes. And when the relief of that sinks in, Sam finally gets around to asking Dean how he knew.

“It’s, uh,” Dean’s cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. “Cas only ever touches my left shoulder. Don’t think he even realizes he does it, but it’s—the one he left his handprint on when he raised me from hell. Last time he touched my right shoulder, it turned out he was possessed by Lucifer, so I just promised myself I’d pay better attention if it happened again.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Quit it, Sam.”

“They should make a Nicholas Sparks movie about you two—your very own chick flick.”

Dean points a finger at him—though not the middle one. “I will dye your hair green in your sleep—don’t think I won’t.”

“Is that going to be your wedding color?”

“Yeah, and you can be the flower girl.”

But even as they’re joking about it, Sam realizes he can actually see it happening someday—Dean getting married. And isn’t that something?

+1

“Dean, you moved my piece, not yours,” Cas points out, gesturing towards the Monopoly board laid out in front of them.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m the car. You’re the iron.”

“The fuck I am.” Dean turns at the sound of Sam approaching, arms laden with pizza boxes. “Finally! I was starving over here.”

“I’m sure waiting three whole hours since we last ate really put you out,” Sam responds, voice laden with sarcasm.

“We can’t have movie and game night without pizza, Sammy. It’s sacrilegious,” Dean insists, having already managed to open one of the boxes and stuff his face with half a slice.

“Says the man who has no problem referencing my father when we’re--”

Dean claps a hand over Cas’s mouth. “Dude, do _not_ finish that sentence.”

“Seconded,” Sam says with a grimace.

“We decided we’re watching The Martian, by the way. And then maybe the Bourne movies.”

“So, the theme is ‘movies where the U.S. government spends a shit ton of money trying to find Matt Damon.”

Dean grins in a way that exposes the pizza sauce on the corner of his mouth. “Exactly.”

“Works for me,” Sam answers with a shrug, reaching for his own mushroom-covered slice.

And as they sit around the map table, Dean complaining every time Sam charges him rent because, ‘I raised you, Bitch,’ and Cas arguing with Dean whenever he thinks the hunter is taking the game too seriously, Sam can’t help but try to record this moment in his mind. Sure, Dean and Cas being a couple has made their little family fit together a bit differently than they did before—but at the end of the day, they’re still family—and he thinks he likes their new normal.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this work? 
> 
> Check out my other Sam POV one-shot: [It's About Damn Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469081)  
> Or if you, like me, missed Jack in this story, consider reading this: [Hindsight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745620)  
> Want to talk to someone about SPN?  
> I'm [@_GatesKeeper on Twitter](https://twitter.com/_GatesKeeper)  
> and [Gates_Keeper on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gates-keeper)


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